Ice storm of '08 was a life-changer

This week marks the fifth anniversary of the 2008 ice storm that traumatized my cat and drove me to get a power adapter for my car so I can make coffee if the world again comes to an end.

The storm anniversary was the second-biggest story being talked about this week next to President Obama and two other world leaders taking a communal selfie at a funeral. The issue of the selfie is, in my opinion, not a big deal. People are constantly trying to document interesting events they are at, and the president should be no different. He isn't just the president of people who can't take a joke. He is president of the rest of us who have pictures out in the Internet-o-sphere of themselves with what appears to be flames coming out of their heads, wearing elf hats and half drunk with beers in both hands.

I post selfies occasionally, and I make no apologies. This is America. People have the right to make themselves look as dumb, awkward, irresponsible or irreverent as they wish. Seeing the president posing for a selfie will not mar me for life, and life will go on.

The ice storm, however, did mar me for life, and I am certain it shortened my cat's lives, all nine of them. It was one of the most miserable times in the lives of many who were affected by it. My home was out of heat for four days, a period I spent mostly working while my wife froze at home with our cat.

What really sticks in my mind about the storm was coffee: How the lack of it affected me and who saved my life by providing me with it.

It is with more than a little sadness that I look at the demise of the West End Diner, which has gone through two fires this year, with one of its owners under arrest in connection with one of the fires. The fires and arrest are just unfortunate news stories, but I am sad about the diner. During the ice storm, it was a beacon of light for people in Leominster. When other places closed, the West End Diner stayed open.

The morning after the ice storm, I woke up to no power and a street that looked more like a war zone than a quiet neighborhood in a small country town. Branches and trees were down, blocking one end of the street, a big branch was on a neighbor's roof, people were milling about. I called to my wife, "Honey, I think I'd better go in to work."

It is what we do as journalists. If something bad happens, we go to work. That morning, unable to shower, unable to heat coffee, I drove off to Leominster where my office was. My selfish thinking was that Leominster never has weather as bad as Templeton. I could take a shower in the office and drink buckets full of coffee.

After I drove over the fifth power line down on the road on West Street in Leominster, I began to doubt the office would have power. It didn't. No power equaled no shower and no coffee. By then I had a raging coffee-addict headache. I made calls on my slowly dying cellphone, but around noon I couldn't take it anymore. I called the police and asked if anyone knew where I could find a coffee. I was directed to the West End Diner.

I didn't hold out much hope, but nearly unable to function because of my headache, I drove to the diner, parked and walked into what to me at that moment seemed like a scene from a Norman Rockwell illustration — all warm and fuzzy. The place was packed. The owners, who had opened early, were there making coffee and cooking meals on their gas grill. Everyone there was cheerful, and so was I after downing two cups of coffee.

Over the next few days, I ate a lot of cold meals, eventually took to drinking instant coffee mixed with cold water, and worked constantly. I survived. I still get a little unsettled when bad weather is predicted, but I survived. Eventually the power was restored, but thinking back, I often wonder if I would have survived if it hadn't been for the West End Diner.

Contact George Barnes at george.barnes@telegram.com. Follow him on Twitter @georgebarnesTG.